Harry Potter and the rings of 'The Sorceror'
by Chris5
Summary: Harry Potter finds out something about himself that leads to a new adventure and he takes (Hermione? & Ron?) and Ginny along for the ride


Title: Harry Potter and the rings of 'the Sorcerer'. Chapter 1

Author: Chris

Summary: Harry discovers something important about himself, and takes Ginny along for the ride: Whilst Harry battles his own inner demons, Ginny-much to her amazement-finds out she has a certain connection with Harry.

Harry/Ginny friendship (room for later changes!!! i.e. more then friendship). Harry/Ron friendship, Harry/Hermione friendship (maybe more, I don't know yet... I don't belong to any particular ship... YET)

Authors notes: I haven't read the fourth book yet, so while waiting until I finish reading the third one to my lil' sis (at which point she'll get the fourth and I'll read it) I decided to write my own version. This is my first attempt at HP fanfic, so I decided to stay the book outline: (Summer holiday's, buying stuff at wherever, big adventure at Hogwarts, return home). Also it's a work in progress (and I have 2 other big fics on the go), I so want to finish it, but it may take some time; keep checking back every now and then to see if anything more has been added (if you like it)... So, shall we begin? Yes:

Chapter 1- Volatile tempers:

It was a typical summer holiday's for number four Private Drive; the late June sun shone brightly as ever overhead (perhaps it wasn't so typical after all; this is England after all) as the rich-green flowing lawns-of which number fours was the most tidily kept and least audacious-basked in it's glorious warmth; allowing a sea of vivid colours to fill the many gardens of private drive as the roses and daffodils amongst others bloomed on diets of bright sun, and the expensive nutrient rich additives that only residents of Private Drive could afford. Patched throughout the warm-blue sky, fluffy white clouds, which seemed to resemble many a different objects, floated lazily across the heavens completing the picture of serenity.

Inside however, it was far less of a happy-tranquil, and much more of a miserable, day. Particularly for one boy-as far as he was concerned, it may just as well be pouring down with rain from dull and dismal grey clouds. This persons name was Harry Potter. For Harry Potter, the summer holiday's were the worst time of the year; even perhaps worse then exam week, because at least during exam week, despite the pressures it brought; he had his friends around him. Harry Potter dreaded the six weeks of misery-or, as he would call it; Hell-that the summer holidays brought, for in the holidays, when school term ended, Harry Potter was sent to live with his only living relatives: his uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia, and their son-who was the same age as Harry-Dudley.

This may sound all well and good-to live with a relative who had taken him in after his parents were killed by Voldemort-in theory. That is of course, if his guardians didn't resent him for burdening them with the task of looking after him-as if he had wanted it-and of course, if they didn't fear and detest what Harry was; for Harry was a wizard.

Harry had found out he was a wizard just three years ago-of course, his guardians had tried to keep it a secret from him but failed-when he was enrolled in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry; a most wondrous place which felt more of a home to Harry after only three years there then number four Private Drive had felt after his entire life. When the summer holidays came, Harry had to return to his aunt and uncle to stay until the new school year begun. Any other school holiday was fine because for those holidays, Harry was allowed to stay at Hogwarts, very often companied with a few of his closest friends. Now, two weeks into the holiday, Harry was being made to work as hard as he was always made to. With back breaking labour, and frequent punishments, Harry's aunt and uncle got revenge on Harry for what the thought was him bringing 'abnormal-ness' to the family (as if they weren't the abnormal ones!), and just for being what he was.

As the hoover in Harry's control swept across the horrible flowery carpet below, Harry wondered what adventure he would have at Hogwarts this year ("Just four more weeks"), last year he had met his godfather who was a convicted murderer-even though Harry now knew him to be innocent but couldn't prove it. The year before, he had come face to face with the king of serpents; a Basilisk (Or, as his friend Hermione had told him and Ron, more commonly known as a Cockatrice). And twice now, Harry had come face to face with the man that had killed his mother and father, and tried to, but failed to kill him: Lord Voldemort. Of course, these weren't always fun, it never is nice to meet someone who had killed your parents, and Harry had almost lost two friends of his during these 'adventures': Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley. But as a whole, Harry would much rather be searching for secret rooms then have to hoover the living room, and kitchen.... and polish the trophy cabinet and trophy's (easiest job of all with only Dudley's 'Biggest baby' trophy)... and after that, clean Dudley's room-but don't touch any of his stuff-then, weed the garden, and after that.... the list was endless.

Harry finished his list of choirs at two o'clock in the evening, at which point aunt Petunia generously allowed him to have a lunch of buttered bread, cheese, and-the real shock for Harry-a packet of crisps ("She must be very happy," thought Harry). After eating his food quickly-which meant he was told, 'don't eat like a pig', which immediately made him think of Dudley-so aunt Petunia didn't change her mind and take the crisps back. After he had finished, Harry was allowed to go to his room to start working on his homework for the holiday, which was now almost finished (Hermione would be so proud). Putting eagle-quill (a gift from Hermione) to parchment, Harry wrote the title to the last piece of homework he had to do: 'How to recognise, and defeat a north-European Hydra' for defence against dark arts. Harry was immediatly sidetracked to thoughts on whom the Defence against the Dark Art's teacher would be this year. In the three years he had been at Hogwarts, Harry had had three different teachers-a new one every year-the last one was the best, but he had resigned so he wouldn't put students at risk; he was a werewolf.

'Perhaps Snape will finally get the teaching position,' though Harry, scrunching his face up at he thought of Snape. Snape was Harry's potions teacher, and head of Slytherin; which of course, because of Harry being in Griffindor, meant Snape hated him. And Harry happened to like Defence against the Dark Arts; well, when it was taught by someone who wasn't actually practicing the dark arts themselves, or a wizard who's knowledge of the subject made them about as useful as a squib.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts-or rather fears-of whom might be the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher by a quite tap at the window. Harry looked up to where he thought the sound came from, and there, at the window, bobbing up and down was a tiny grey owl: Pig. His homework lay forgotten as Harry opened up the window so that the owl could deliver the letter-which was much to big for it, and threatened to overwhelm the tiny owl-which the struggling owl held in his beak. As the window opened, Harry couldn't help but laugh at the site that greeted him; the owl-whom Harry was sure was much to small to be carrying itself let alone letters-flew in the window, dropped the letter immediately to the floor, and because of the sudden loss in load the owl had to cope with, it flew straight into the wall. After checking it was alright-it was-Harry left the owl; who perched next to Hedwig (Harry's barn owl), who looked indignant-or as indignant as an owl could look-at Pig, and turned it's back.

'Oh come on Hedwig,' said Harry to his owl, with an hint of anticipation in his voice; the letter now clutched in his hands. 'At least give Pig a try. You might like him once to get to know him.'

Hedwig looked at owl, and back at Harry who by now was tearing the letter open, and then finally, deciding to give the smaller owl a 'try' and turned to face him.

Harry already knew who the letter was from, it could only be one person-the owner of the owl, and his best friend from Hogwarts (well, one of his two best friends); which incidentally made it his best friend ever-Ron Weasley. Scanning down through the scruffy writing to the signature, Harry's suspicions were confirmed.

__

Harry,

Urrrrrggggg... I wish she would shut up.

The letter begun oddly, and for a second Harry though the letter wasn't to him at all, but to someone else. Of course, it wasn't, and as he continued reading, the beginning made more sense.

Sorry for the odd start, but I have to do this or else Ginny won't stop nagging me about it: 'Ginny say's hello'. Maybe now she'll leave me alone-nope, still waiting to proof read my letter so I don't write anything embarrassing (As if it isn't obvious she still has a huge crush on you), I'll find a way to get it past her though. Anyway, want to come round to stay for the holidays, again?... Of course you do, don't want to stay with those muggles; although, dad would happily trade place with you any day of the week...

Harry briefly thought that if Mr. Weasley got to know uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia he really wouldn't.

...he's becoming more and more obsessed everyday. Even more so then when you last saw him. I swear, one day he's going to put a spell on himself and turn into a muggle. I'll call you on the telephone later. Hermione gave me a few tips-like not to shout, or mention none-muggle stuff-so we might be successful this time. So be warned, expect the call. See you later, can't wait to get back to school, can you? 

Oh yeah, by the way, Fred and George (Who said say 'Hi' and 'Hi') are taking bet's that Snapes the new Defence against Dark Arts teacher-I put 10 knuts against him. Want to put some money on? Anyway, even if your muggle uncle puts the phone down this time, mum and dad said they'd pop round (tomorrow) to convince them otherwise; won't like that will they?

'No they won't,' Harry laughed. 'Not one bit.'

See you later,

Ron

PS. Ginny sends her love.

Fred and George (wanted to) send an explosive-but they tried to feed it to Pig instead.

Harry couldn't suppress the huge grin that formed on his face at the thought of what would happen if Weasley with their well rememberable bright red hair popped round. He could just see the shocked look on aunt Petunias pale face if Mr. Weasley saw Dudley and asked her 'How does this work?'. Or if he asked uncle Vernon if he wanted him to enchant his brand new company car so that it flew. Or if Fred and George let of one of their Filbuster fireworks. It would be worth an entire summer holiday alone with the Dursley's. Of course, it would never happen, the Weasley's were much too polite-well, maybe not Fred and George. Still grinning from ear to ear, Harry folded the paper and placed it into his pocket, and sat on the bed; now completely oblivious to work that sat next to him. He was much to exited, waiting for Ron to call.

*

Harry wasn't sure how long he must have waited, because at seven o'clock, he was awoken by the slamming of the door, he barley had time to wonder how he had fallen asleep during the day without being woken up by aunt Petunia's broom being pocked in his ribs, or uncle Vernon bellowing, 'You lazy boy. Get up' before Dudley's voice boomed just as his fathers did as he demanded food. Harry finally remembered that Dudley had been round a friends house and would be staying for dinner. After ten or so minutes, after Dudley had managed to scoff down a second dinner, like the pig he was, Harry heard his voice again demanding, 'Mum, can I have a new pair of trainers.'

Aunt Petunia responded in a sweat voice that she reserved only for her son-who in her eye's could do no wrong; despite the fact that he was a really bad, mean and self-indulgent person who bullied many, of which Harry had formerly been a victim-which was completely different to the shrill tone she reserved for Harry, 'But Dudley, sweetkins, you got a new pair last week.'

'BUT MUM,' Came Dudley's annoying whining. Despite the fact that he was the same age as Harry, Dudley still threw temper tantrums like a three year old; because it always got him what he wanted. 'A new pair just came out, and all my friends have got them. You don't want me to go round dressed like Harry do you?'

Harry could almost hear aunt Petunias shocked gasp as she wrinkled her nose at the mention of himself.

Aunt Petunia spoke in a disgusted voice, 'No son of mine will dress like that cousin of yours. Wearing those rags; it's a disgrace.' Harry felt his own face wrinkle in anger. It was true, he wore Dudley's old clothes; but only because the Dursley's never brought him any of his own. 'Come dear, we'll tell your father to go and get some more money out of the bank; we only want the best for our Dudley.'

A few seconds later, and aunt Petunia was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. She must have already left the living room because the phone wasn't picked up until it's seventh ring. In his excitement, Harry found his legs working almost on their own, taking him from his bed to the door in four stride. With his ear's pressed against the door, Harry could just about make out aunt Petunias hissing shrieks, which instantly told Harry who was on the other side. A few minutes later, after much silent muttering from aunt Petunia, Harry heard uncle Vernon's loud and booming voice (He must have heard aunt Petunia screeching-and let's face it, who wouldn't-and come out from where ever he was). He proceeded to give a mouthful to whomever (Ron) was on the other side. After much shouting, and shrieking from aunt Petunia, and shouting and bellowing from uncle Vernon, and of course the shouts of, 'Mum, when are we going to get my new trainers?' from Dudley, Harry heard the phone crash down with such force it was shortly followed by another crash as the phone fell to the floors.

'THOSE FREAKS, HOW DARE THEY CALL THIS HOUSE AGAIN,' shouted Vernon, his voice getting steadily louder, as Dudley acted as the catalyst by shouting things such as; 'Look at poor mum' and 'Was it Harry? It was Harry. He done it on purpose'. It was inevitable that Harry would be in trouble, and sure enough Vernon's voice boomed loudly up the stairs echoing off the walls so his voice sounded even louder, 'HARRY POTTER, GET DOWN HERE NOW,' he shouted. Harry briefly had time to be thankful that the Dursley's didn't like any magic-just imagine uncle Vernon sending a Howler-before he scurried out of the room, almost falling down the stairs as he took two at a time.

Harry ran into the living room, trying to stop his glasses from falling off, whilst at the same time, trying to straighten his hair even the slightest. Sitting on the new lime-green chair, aunt Petunia sat, her eye's glazed and her usually pale looking skin looking paler then ever, as she fanned herself, Harry got the impression she had fainted; of course, it was merely an act. Dudley, sat next to her, his fat pink face was plastered with a smug looking grin. Harry wished he could wipe that smirk right of his face-it was a shame that magic use weren't permitted out of term time. Worst of all, uncle Vernon, a huge man-well, when compared to Harry at least; in comparison to Hagrid, he was tiny-who had absolutely no noticeable neck, and the loudest voice of anyone Harry had ever heard, stood looking angrier then ever before. His eye's were so narrow, the appeared as nothing but slits in his fat pink face that bared more then a resemblance to his son. Harry wished he could find a hole to crawl into, and never come out as uncle Vernon continued to glare; a vein in the side of his head throbbing, as his eye's twitched with rage.

'W-What is it?' asked Harry feebly, trying to cover up the tremble in his voice.

'What is it?' repeated Vernon venomously, with a look of loathing so great it was only matched by Snapes own look of hatred of Harry. 'What is it he asks? Look at your aunt of there. Go on-' Vernon raised a finger to point at Petunia, and for the briefest moment Harry though he was going to hit him. Something which he had never done before. But he didn't, he just continued speaking, or rather, spitting with the rage of a woken rattlesnake. 'Just look at her. You see what you've done? You and those other filthy-blooded-'

'They're not filthy blooded,' Harry interjected in defiance as the of the use of the word filthy-blooded-which reminded him of the term mudblood-filled him with anger.

'What?' Vernon seethed, looking daggers at Harry, who was feeling smaller by the minute. 'You ungrateful little brat. How dare you talk to me like that-'

Dudley, who had been silently enjoying Harry's tongue-lashing finally added, 'Tell him dad.'

'Quite,' roared uncle Vernon. To his own son.

This must be so much worse then Harry thought.

'Go move your stuff into the cupboard under the stairs. Put your owl in the cage, and put that under the stairs-' uncle Vernon began, in an threateningly quite tone.

'But-' Harry tried to reason. 'You can't just put Hedwig in there.'

'Watch me,' Vernon spat as he pushed past Harry almost knocking him to the ground. Harry tried to stop, in vain, uncle Vernon all the way up the stairs, and then all the way down. But he was too big, or Harry to small, eventually everything of Harry's-including Hedwig and his wand-was locked under the stairs, and uncle Vernon spoke in an ever increasing loudness as he tried competed with Hedwig who was hooting noisily from the other side of the cupboard.

'Go to your room, and don't come out until I tell you,' said uncle Vernon, still dangerously quite.

'But, what about Hedwig, she need's feeding, and water...' Harry tried to reason, but there was no reasoning with uncle Vernon; not unless you were Dudley.

Uncle Vernon gave an ultimatum 'Go. Now. And don't say another word, because if you do, the I'll let the owl go.' before saying, 'How dare they say they were coming here. Here, of all places-to MY house.'

Harry swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat, and desperately held back the tears forming in his eye's; he didn't want to give uncle Vernon or Dudley the pleasure of seeing him cry. Nor did he want to cry himself, he still-barely-had his dignity, and he was too old for that. Making his way silently up the stairs with his head hung low.

The next day could not come sooner for Harry. The next day, when the Weasley's would be coming.

*

When Harry awoke early the next day to uncle Vernon roaring loudly with an ever spiteful edge to his voice, Harry was strangely filled with renewed hope, and happiness; the Weasley's would be coming, Ron had said so in his letter. His good mood didn't last long however as it was quickly washed in a sea of malicious comments thrown at him by both Dudley who teased Harry about how he saw him cry-Harry briefly argued back with a few comments of his own about babies and Dudley's temper tantrum's, but he immediately regretted them when Dudley told, and uncle Vernon's punishments were ever worse- and uncle Vernon himself-who was particularly ruthless-making comments that were particularly hurtful to Harry; they were about his mum and dad. Harry became angrier with each snip at his mother, or father, or his own blood. Harry felt his blood begin to boil beneath his skin as if it were lava, ready to erupt. For hours, Harry only held on to his temper by the thought that the Weasley's would be here any second ('Please come soon' he thought endlessly). Every car that went past outside, Harry prayed to be the Weasley's, but it never was. They didn't come-hours went by and the day was slowly swallowed as the sun began to set on the horizon, and Harry was still forced to do choirs worse then ever before; clean the toilet, pick the hairs out of the brush. It was all becoming to much, and for only the second time, (the other happening the previous year) Harry seriously felt like walking out, or better yet; revenge with magic. Then, as the clock on the wall read 8, and Harry heard another car far down the road, one final comment, this time from aunt Petunia, and Harry's anger became to much. Turning with pent up rage, with gritted teeth his anger becoming fever pitch, Harry was surprised as Dudley yelped with real terror. Aunt Petunia looked as though she was going to faint, and uncle Vernon took a step back, his mouth agape, almost falling over in shock. Uncle Vernon's fear quickly turned to anger.

'HOW DARE YOU USE MAGIC TO SCARE ME,' he shouted-disguising the sound of closing doors outside-with aunt Petunia and Dudley still looking petrified in the corner they had backed into.

'W-What M-M - I didn't - I didn't used magic,' Harry stuttered, looking around wildly to see what had happened. Looking from the settee-which was still as disgusting and lime-green as ever-to the walls, to the carpet, to the roof, Harry couldn't see one thing out of place, or anything that would be even remotely scary.

'DON'T LIE,' uncle Vernon screamed so loud Harry though his lungs would collapse. 'GET-UP-STAIRS'

In one swift movement, Harry turned in confusion and anger, and made his way upstairs clenching his fists as he done so, he muttered, 'Didn't use magic. Liars'. Walking in as big a strides as he could manage, Harry stomped straight past the huge mirror that hung inside a large decorated frame at base of the stairs; if he had bothered to look, or hadn't been to preoccupied with anger, he would have seen his eye's change from the darkest shade midnight-jet-black, to their normal green colour. Reaching the top of the stairs, he paused at the sweetest sound he had ever heard; the doorbell.

'HARRY, GET DOWN HERE NOW. GET YOUR THINGS AND GO,' uncle Vernon shouted up. 'the sooner you leave the better it is for us.'

Harry didn't need to be twice, he ran down the stairs, hiding the smile as big as Lockharts that was trying to show itself to the world. Grabbing his trunk in one hand, and owl cage in another, Harry passed aunt Petunia, who still looked as though she was on shaky legs and who was muttering in a frail voice, 'Come here - to out house', as she saw Harry, her voice became higher still, and she fled the room in much the same way Dudley used to.

The door bell sounded again, and uncle Vernon Grabbed Harry's trunk, and practically pulled Harry to the door, shoved him out to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were looking as extremely nervous.

'Here, take him.' uncle Vernon grunted and then in a very low tone, 'not having of any of their kind in my house.'

Harry flew forward, and was caught by Mrs. Weasley; the mother of Harry's best friend: Ron. Standing beside her, stood her husband. If there was one thing that stood out about the Weasley's, it was their hair. All of the family Harry had seen, and as far as he could guess those he hadn't, all had bright red hair which meant that you could very often find any of them even in the crowded shops of Diagon Alley. Further more, each of the Weasley's had freckles that covered their faces.

The door was all to quickly wrenched closed as Mr. Weasley held out his hand to shake uncle Vernon's own. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a sorry smile. 

'Sorry we couldn't come sooner dear,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'We couldn't find the place. We had to travel by car - and I though Arthur new how to work it.' she said looking pointedly ay her husband, 'but it turned out the last car he had was enchanted to make it easier to drive as well as to endanger peoples lives.'

Arthur Weasley grinned sheepishly at his wife, and then more prominently at Harry.

'Harry, sorry were late, we came as soon as we could,' said Ron, approaching from the direction of the end of the drive. 

'I thought I told you all to stay in the car,' Mrs. Weasley added sternly.

'You did,' answered Ron. 'But we were coming to rescue Harry-and you, from those mean muggles'

Ron approached Harry, but was quickly pushed aside by Fred who grinned mischievously as usual 'Harry, want me and-'

'Me,' piped in George, pushing Fred out of the way so he could talk, Ron all the time attempting to get past.

'To try out our latest,' Fred added.

'Gizmo on,' said George. 

'Them' Fred finished pointing at the house to indicate the Dursley's, as Ron continued to battle to get to Harry, 'You'll love it.'

'No one's doing anything of the such,' said Mrs. Weasley with authority that only she held over Fred and George; who, just like their father grinned sheepishly, allowing Ron-Harry's best friend-to finally get back to Harry. 

'What's this?' asked Mr. Weasley with excitement, picking up a small slip of black and white papers which were covered in writing.

'That's just a muggle newspaper,' said Harry, not at all interested.

'Do you think-do you think that your guardians would mind if I borrowed it?' asked Mr. Weasley sounding just as exited as Harry had the first time he found out he was a wizard.

'Dad, it's just a newspaper,' said Ron, sounding just as unexcited as Harry. 'The picttures don't even move.'

'Put it back Arthur,' Mrs. Weasley instructed.

'Let us see first,' Fred interjected.

'Yeah, we want to look,' George said.

After a wary look from their parents, Fred and George were finally allowed to glance at the newspapers. The twins finally flicked through the paper and when the reached the end they finally announced, 'Boring.'

'Alright now,' Mrs. Weasley begun. 'I think it's best we don't loiter outside Harry's house, I'm not sure his guardians would appreciate that.'

'They wouldn't appreciate being turned into toads either,' muttered Ron. 'But that doesn't mean it's wrong.'

As the Weasley's and Harry walked off towards the car, Mrs Weasley shouted at the twins to get a move on, because they were still hanging back flicking through the newspaper. 

'Just a minute mum,' called one of the twins, and within seconds, they had placed the newspaper back on the steps and came bounding across the drive to join the rest of their family, each hiding a mischievous grin. 

Harry begun talking animatedly to Ron about everything that had been happening over at the Warren so far. They couldn't exactly talk about what went on at four Private Drive, because it was too boring, and in Harry's case: depressing. The Warren on the other hand was always exiting and welcoming, and full of neat things that only a Wizarding family's house could hold; even if Ron didn't think so (because he was used to it). As Ron told Harry exactly how Fred and George's 'Who Will Be The Next Against The Dark Arts Teacher' sweepstake went, Harry noticed someone missing, glancing up to the car parked at the far end of the drive, Harry saw two deep blue eye's starring at them from the backseat window, a length of fiery red hair-which was soon matched by an equally red face as Ginny Weasley blushed furiously when Harry smiled at her-outlined her face perfectly, bringing out her bright blue eye's. 

Ginny quickly turned away, feeling her face become impossibly warm, as though on fire, as the deep red blush spread. Although she wasn't as bad as she used to in the fact she didn't blush *every* time she saw Harry, it was still embarrassing that he had caught her starring at him. Ginny promised herself she would not embarrass herself like that for at least a whole day. In fact, she wouldn't say a word to Harry all the way home.

End Chapter 1

Yes, yes, I know this seems rushed, but that brings me to my important note...

****

Important note 1: I really kinda rushed this part so I could get it up at fanfiction.net and ask the all important question: Would anyone be interested in being a beta-reader? (At which point, I will update this part to make it better). My grammar sucks, I'd be eternally grateful, and give you praises, dedications, money in the next parts? If you're not good at grammar, you could still help by checking the storyline for plot holes and so forth. Please, and takers? If so e-mail my privately at enterthegeko@hotmail.com. Please, please, please (I don't care if I don't get any feedback as long as I get a beta). Thanks!


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